


Let Me Be Something

by daniko



Series: Stony Bingo [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (all of which are canon-compliant), Age Regression/De-Aging, Domestic Avengers, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mutual Pining, Physical Disability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 10:53:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3117494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniko/pseuds/daniko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You can either lose your friends forever or take what I offer". Those were Frigga's words, not Tony's. She meant to explain how their three spy assassins had turned into children when she tried to heal the damage done by the Aether.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Be Something

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written as the first installment for my Stony Bingo card, prompt DE-AGED. For creative purposes, I played with the MCU!Timeline a bit: Thor comes after CATWS though they happen fairly simultaneously. This fic is set afterwards. Lastly, thank you very much to [penguin-people](http://penguin-people.tumblr.com) for beta-reading.
> 
> The quote: “Dear God, let me be something every minute of every hour of my life. Let me be gay; let me be sad. Let me be cold; let me be warm. Let me be hungry... have too much to eat. Let me be ragged or well dressed. Let me be sincere – be deceitful. Let me be truthful; let me be a liar. Let me be honorable and let me sin. Only let me be something every blessed minute. And when I sleep, let me dream all the time so that not one little piece of living is ever lost.” —Betty Smith, in _A Tree Grows in Brooklyn_.

The choice had been quite simple, as these things often were not: "You can either lose your friends forever or take what I offer".

Those were Frigga's words, not Tony's. She had meant to explain how their three spy assassins had turned into children when she tried to heal the damage done by the Aether. Thor had stood behind his mother, face pinched with guilt. Well, as he should: had he not called, Natasha, Clint, and Barnes would not have suffered the backlash of Malekith’s wrath. (Tony was prepared to deny any wonder slash panic at the existence of aliens. Many, many aliens, light-years more advanced than humanity.)

Of course, any later decisions regarding the lives of their three spooks had not been as simple as Frigga's solution.

For Tony, at least.

For Fury, it had been simple and newly-appointed Director Hill was also very supportive. Natasha, Clint, and Barnes would remain with the Avengers if they would take the responsibility. There would be new security measures put into place and a file with the profiles of SHIELD-approved nannies. Despite the absence of their resident expert in magic (Thor), there was no reason to take the recently de-aged Avengers from their home.

Tony, somehow, begged to differ.

Captain America, true to the expectations, had immediately risen up to the challenge. For him, any other choice was unacceptable. It kind of made Tony want to punch him in the face, how Steve could oh so casually make decisions for them in favor of 'doing what is right'.

"Right," Tony had gritted out in Cap's face after the meeting with Fury and Hill, "such a good guy you are, taking these kids in…." Didn't that grate on his fraying nerves, talking about his teammates like that? “Children are not soldiers, Captain! _They_ are not soldiers! And what do you even know about children? If this is just a pathetic attempt at paying back your debts, I won’t stand for—.” Tony had watched as Cap's blue eyes darkened with anger, but that didn’t stop him. “If you stopped to think about what was right for these kids—.”

That was when Captain America left the room, leaving Tony feeling like the asshole.

Fury, who had at the time still called the shots in the land of SHIELD, before engaging in his HYDRA witch-hunt, decided to ignore Tony’s legitimate concerns. He seemed like he couldn’t care less about Cap’s reasons. Both he and Hill seemed relieved that Cap was willing to care for the de-aged agents, which made Tony nonverbal with frustration. Few people could brag about that either of those achievements, the non verbosity and the sympathy. Tony had handled pressure with grace once upon a time. Not as much, since the Avengers Initiative took off.

But no one – not even Tony – had counted on Steve being so clueless around the kids.

His earnestness became overwhelming, as these kids were wary of anyone who cared too much too soon. Steve, being himself, got up early and exercised; he did the house chores, leaving minimal tasks for his three wards; he asked about their days and homework, fed them, made them take baths and brush their teeth. It made the kids feel like they were either being held up to an impossible standard (Steve's) or they didn’t fit Steve’s life. Tony could relate.

And Tony knew all this, because he was a busybody with an obsessive personality and couldn’t very well leave it alone, but that didn't stop him from shouting at Steve, “You know what, Spangles? You made the bed, you can lie in it!” on his way out of Cap’s apartment in Brooklyn, after the latter of his many attempts to talk some sense into Cap. 

Tony then turned right back, because he still needed to throw the keys to the minivan he had driven to Brooklyn at Steve’s head.

Steve, of course, caught them in his big hand, only inches from his face. “What is this?”

“Car keys, Cap.” Tony made a show of trying to be helpful. “Cars are these things with four wheels and the keys go in the key h—.”

“I know what a car is, Tony,” snapped Steve, patience visibly thinning.

“Well, then!” Tony exclaimed cheerfully. “Then you must know exactly what to do with those keys either way.” He leered and watched Cap go bright red at the implication. Ha!

As if it physically pained him to continue the conversation, Steve asked through gritted teeth, “Why are you giving me car keys, Tony?”

“Why the hell do you think? Can you drive three kids in your vintage motorcycle?!” shouted Tony, throwing his hands up in frustration. Come to think of it, that wasn’t all: “I cannot believe you, making the kids take the subway, it’s not like they have a rich friend or anything! And that school! No extracurricular activities! They can start waving the Ivy League goodbye and—oh my god, I’m turning into Howard!”

“What rich friend? It can’t be the one who wanted to give them to adoption!”

It seemed Steve had got better at filtering the relevant content of Tony’s rambles. This fact didn’t improve Tony’s mood at all. He chirped, with a healthy dose of sarcasm, “Why, yes, because they are so much better with Captain Unavailable! No wonder—.”

That was when one of the bedroom doors banged open and Barnes came into the living room like a bat out of hell, Clint close on his heels. “Do you have to?” Barnes snapped at Steve. “We are getting sick of listening to you two fight about us!”

Steve paled. He cleared his throat. “Right. Right,” he repeated. “I’m sorry, Bucky, Clint. It won’t happen again.”

Tony – in the part of mind which specialized in creative problem-solving and also, curiously, in Steve – wondered about it. About Steve’s reaction to Bucky’s anger, both guilty (expected) and resigned (not so expected). It made Tony want more sneak peeks into their past so that he could see the whole picture. Everyone else was expendable and obsolete when Barnes and Steve were in the same room. Including Tony. It made him want to pick and prod at their relationship until he could make sense of it or until he stopped seething with frustration. “And jealousy,” piped that annoying voice in his head that sounded like JARVIS.

That was when Bucky turned to him. “If you came here to talk Steve into getting us in foster care, _again_ , you can just get lost!”

Steve winced. “Tony’s just worried about you guys—.”

Bucky – it was hard to call a one-armed ten-year-old gangly kid by his surname – scoffed. “Yeah, right! Look,” he said to Steve, “we really appreciate you putting us up. You take care of us and we owe you big time, so he can just—.”

Steve looked weary. “Bucky,” he sighed, taking a seat on the couch. “That’s not—come on, guys. Go get Natasha and come back here. I think Tony and I need to tell you something.”

Clint and Bucky exchanged a glance and Clint hurried to the bedroom, presumably to do as they were told. Bucky stood in the middle of the living room, his metal hand curled tightly at his side, glaring at both Steve and Tony. It made Tony proud and a bit envious how much they acted like siblings. (Why couldn’t he have been the one turned into a kid?)

“Er.” Tony absolutely did not want any part on this family meeting. “Cap. I absolutely do not want any part in this family meeting.”

Steve gave him a hard look. “Bully for you.”

Tony hadn’t seen the Cap pay him this much attention since after the debacle of Project Insight….

At that moment, Clint returned with the redhead cuteness that was four-year-old Natasha Romanoff. The three of them stood side to side, Natasha in middle, holding Clint’s hand and Bucky’s pant leg. They looked expectant and suspicious, but not – and Tony couldn’t help but to notice this – scared or worried. They did not believe Steve was going to send them away. Tony knew he wouldn’t. They had been arguing about this for the past five months, right since the beginning, and Steve hadn’t given an inch. The kids knew that. Steve was reliable. (Like Jarvis, the butler, had been. Maybe. Not like Tony thought about him often.)

“Look,” Steve began. “We’re sorry.” How presumptuous of him to speak for Tony. “You guys shouldn’t have to worry about us.”

“You were arguing about us,” Clint pointed out, speaking slowly, chin pointed up. Uh. Tony might have, perhaps, once seen a photo of himself in a kid’s smart suit, looking like that. The hearing aids Tony had built him seemed to be doing their job.

“No, we weren’t,” said Tony, surprising even himself. “You might, in fact, have been the subject of the conversation, but Cap and I never got along. Don’t mind us. We don’t.”

“What Tony means,” Steve insisted, “is that we both want to do what’s best for you. We just disagree on what that is.”

Bucky and Clint exchanged an unsure look above Natasha’s head. “Yeah, but you could ask us,” Bucky suggested.

Tony was starting to worry at the proud glow that spread through his chest. It was inconvenient. “Righty-o! So,” he prompted, “do you guys like it here?”

“’S better than foster care,” said Clint.

Steve winced. Well, it was hardly a ringing endorsement.

At the sight of Steve’s hurt face, Tony suddenly had many regrets. Every stupid and mean thing he had done in his bad years didn’t compare with putting that look on Steve’s face. Tony had known Steve wanted to keep their friends safe and cared for. He knew of the many things Bucky had done for Steve, from back when Steve still talked to Tony regularly (pre-Project Insight). He knew how Steve had always wanted to repay Barnes for it. He knew how much his and Natasha’s relationship had improved since the Chitauri invasion and how much her trust meant to him. He knew how he and Clint had bonded over traumatic childhoods and physical disabilities. How much Steve wanted to unburden Clint for a little while. Tony had known all this and he kept insisting. 

And the worst part was: it wasn’t even about the kids.

Tony just didn’t want Steve to have them, if Tony couldn’t. (And who would give them to Tony Stark over Captain America?)

Steve said, “We can find you guys a good home, where you’ll be together, with people that understand you and care for you.” And then, Steve did something Tony hadn’t ever expected from Captain America, the embodiment of altruism. He added, “If you want, we can do that. But, er, I would like if you stayed.” He looked at each one of them. “If there’s something wrong, with me, with how I treat you guys, we could talk about it.”

Bucky and Clint exchanged another glance, a surprised one this time.

“You, like, really want us here?” Bucky asked and Tony ached a bit at how uncertain he sounded. “Like, actually want us here? Because we could be out of your hair if you guys helped.”

Steve clenched his impressive jaw, looking like he might cry. “I really, really want you guys here. Every one of you.”

“Uh,” said Bucky, who was looking a bit teary himself. Sometimes Tony wondered at what their friendship used to be like, if they were both like this. Bucky looked at Clint, then Natasha. Both nodded. “Okay, then.”

Steve’s smile could have blinded someone. Like Tony.

“What ‘bout Tony?”

They all started at the small voice. Natasha didn’t often speak and was mostly monosyllabic. For some reason, at the moment, Tony really wanted to pay for her ballet lessons, buy her Barbie dolls and threaten the dudes she would bring home one day. He glanced at Steve and almost flinched at the hardened stare he had fixed on Tony.

It was a stare that promised dire things if he dared to disappoint one of those three. But that wasn’t why he said, “Tony thinks we should go try the minivan and have pizza.”

Regardless of his reasons – friendship, Steve’s eyes, home, family – Tony had no choice but to step up.

Pepper had not been the happiest, when he called her later to tell her.

Pepper seemed to resent Tony’s self-destructive tendencies as if they were personally against her. She also seemed to understand Tony's choice, judging by the pitying stare she spared him through the smartphone screen.

Well, so what if he was a bit more attached to Steve than it was healthy? So what if he knew exactly why it was important for Steve to pay his debts to these three particular people, who – despite having limited amounts of kindness for mankind – had seemed to think Tony Stark was worth some of it? So what if, among late-night coffee breaks with Natasha, prank wars with Clint (he had felt young) and juvenile competitions with Barnes over Steve’s affection, maybe they had been sort of a team? They were a team and they would be a team regardless of whether half of them remembered being such. (Though ultimately that also wasn’t why Tony had chosen to step up.)

At the moment, Tony stood to Steve's tiny apartment in Brooklyn.

(That was Steve for you: clinging to the past with the sort of fierceness most people would balk at. Not Tony. Not Natasha or Sam Wilson, or Barton and much less Bucky Barnes.)

So Tony stood in Steve’s two-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn and asked him to stop being stupid and move his ass back to the tower. Just because Tony wasn't game for co-parenting, didn't mean he wasn't game for putting up with them underfoot. (There was a lie in there somewhere.) Steve, with his bright blue eyes full of understanding, agreed.

They both knew this was, in truth, and had always been, about family.

 

* * *

 

All parties in agreement and despite all (Steve’s) beliefs to the contrary, moving three kids and Steve into the tower only took about two hours and a troupe of five handsomely paid manual workers. It wasn't like any of them owned many things, Steve included, and how did that happen? It was heartbreaking. Steve had even expected to bring his furniture and appliances, the sweet child. When his delusions were rectified, Steve sulked at the waste, until Tony promised to hire someone who could keep his apartment in living condition. Just in case.

At that, Steve asked, “In case of what?” leaving Tony a bit speechless and also a bit moved. Standard disclaimer: no tears were shed. Either way, Tony had already made plans to rectify the glaring lack of personal possessions.

What, in reality and pardon the French, took a fuckload of time was getting Steve to agree to move into the floor beneath the penthouse (previously Clint’s) and all the kids into Tony's spare bedrooms. Fortunately, if Tony had something to spare, it was space and money. He might have gone a bit overboard with the makeover in the kids’ rooms, but it wasn’t like he was compensating for anything (he was) or hoping the kids would like the penthouse enough to make sure Steve stayed.

Furthermore, as he told Steve, “If we have the means and hope to raise intelligent and independent kids, we need to supply them with the appropriate set of _stimuli_.”

“Supply them,” Steve repeated flatly. Although, to be fair, he did look a bit overwhelmed and thus, as it was his coping mechanism, defensive. “Tony. Last week you were telling me off for pressuring the kids into being their old selves and now this?”

This being the set of plastic arrows and a pint-sized bow, advanced enough that SHIELD agents were salivating over it. And the series of bulls-eye painted at random on Clint’s walls. (Okay, so Tony might have put a little of their old selves in their rooms, but hey! It wasn't like they had been brought back completely different people!) As it happened occasionally, Tony didn’t have an answer to that, so he stared helplessly at Steve.

“I wonder if you even listen to yourself,” Steve huffed, at last, but there was an amused glint in his eyes that Tony had come to associate with success.

In the end, Clint kept the bow, Natasha the ballerina shoes and Bucky the collectible (and expensive) tin toy soldiers—

“I’m surprised you didn’t get him a long-range gun,” Steve offered with deceptive casualness.

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m not completely irresponsible.”

Steve made a show of gasping in shock. “You think I can make a tape of that?” he asked, before heading out of Bucky’s room with a roll of his eyes.

“Everything’s digital these days, Captain Anachronism!”

—and Tony promised himself that would be the extent of his involvement in the kids’ development and he would respect Captain’s authority in this matter.

... Yeah, Tony didn’t know how he hadn’t choked on that either.

Steve was an ace at making Bucky, Clint and Natasha feel like they had a home and someone they could rely on, but most of the time they looked bored and sounded meek. It was frustrating for Steve, because he had no idea how to encourage them to do things. Tony had to be honest: he also had no idea how the kids kept themselves busy with only dolls and video games, but they seemed to be managing just fine. As far as Tony was concerned, they were smart enough to decide what they wanted to do with their time.

Steve, on another hand, seemed to be running for the title of _Most Encouraging Parent 2014_.

"Are you done with your homework?"

Bucky nodded though his eyes remained on his steak. "We got it ready last night before dinner and Nat doesn't have any."

Eyes on the security feed, Tony was appalled. What kind of twisted infant did his homework anytime before just last minute?

"Can I go back to baby school?" asked Clint. Tony smirked. That was some Barton™ for you. “I don’t like Agent Fitz or Agent Simmons.” Tony wouldn’t either. Both kids were exceedingly cheery.

"No," said Steve, absently. Clint sighed like the weary. Tony wanted to pinch his cheek. Steve just looked wrong-footed. It was painful to watch. "It was good thinking to finish your homework on Friday," he said at last. Bucky preened."How about we take a trip to the park? You guys could play some soccer—."

"Nah," said Bucky, though he looked nervous. "We played it yesterday in the gym. Carol was there. Can we play some video games instead, until dinnertime?"

Steve sighed. Bucky and Clint exchanged a nervous glance. "Of course,” said Steve. “I'll bring a snack for you guys later on if that's okay with you?"

"Yeah, sure, thanks, Steve," Bucky breathed. "Can we go now?"

“Are you finished?” Bucky and Clint nodded eagerly. “Okay, sure.” Steve nodded and he must be feeling off-base, if he didn't even insist that the boys put their plates in the dishwasher.

The sad look on Steve’s face was giving Tony feelings. He hated that Steve was sad and that Bucky and Clint kept trying not to burden Steve. Only Natasha seemed quite amenable to love Steve to pieces and was allowed to do so (Unlike Tony. Yeah, what?), but she was also four: give her food and a cuddle and she was a happy girl.

"I guess it's just us, Nat," Steve said to Natasha, who smiled sweetly and kept picking peas with her hand. Steve huffed a laugh. "Look at that mess!" he protested jokingly, but Natasha looked up sharply, only to sniff in disdain when she realized Steve was teasing her. "You know, I had a friend named Natasha who would frown an awful lot at me for letting you do that." Tony often forgot (he tried damn hard to do so) how close Natasha had Steve had got after SHIELD's downfall.

In the small screen, Steve waited until Natasha finished eating and cajoled her into eating another two of her cocktail sausages. He then helped her wash her face and hands. Tony followed him through his security cameras, as Steve took Natasha to her room to change her into a clean t-shirt, put her to bed and covered her with a pink fluffy blanket. Natasha seemed to love pink and tutus and everything that was princess-like. It made Tony want to go back in time and offer adult Natasha a plethora of shoes and dresses at her choosing. Pink dresses, red shoes. Alas, he settled for absently signing her up for ballet classes, using one of the spare tablets on his worktable.

Steve settled next to her with a Grimm Brothers fairy tale book, which Tony was sure belonged to Steve and not the kids, and settled in for a reading session. So did Tony. On the screen, Natasha snuggled into Steve’s side and rested her head against his stomach. Steve leaned down and kissed her hair, holding her close. Tony’s lungs felt too small to breathe. That, combined with the sudden appearance of an alien pressure around his heart (he should get that checked out), made Tony shut down the security feed.

Perhaps, seeing as he wasn’t doing anything of importance – Tony quickly closed down the schematics for a new product release due next week and a few legal documents labeled as “If you don’t sign these, I WILL kill you, Tony!” – he could lend Steve a hand, just until he and the kids got a bit more used to each other. Tony could then go back to not being involved beyond material needs.

With that in mind, he took the elevator up to the penthouse (before he spooked himself with expectations, as usual) and headed towards the boys' room. One of Steve's rules was no locked doors, so Tony could see the boys before they saw him.

Predictably, Clint and Bucky were each on their own bed, looking bored out of their minds.

"We should have gone to the park," Clint whined.

Bucky scoffed. "You in a real rush to get your soccer technique criticized, ain't ya, pal?"

Tony suppressed a smile. If there was something Tony missed about Barnes was the Brooklyn drawl. (It always had the additional benefit of making Steve respond in kind.) Having established the boys would be in for just about any sort of entertainment, Tony knocked on the door. Immediately Bucky and Clint rushed to the front of the XBOX. Microsoft merchandise in his house, the sacrilege!

"Hello, minions!" Tony greeted, getting inside. "I found a little time in my schedule to cheat Steve out of some house chores and I was wondering if you guys are in for a game of—." What did kids play anyway? "Poker?"

They most certainly did not play poker, but hell! They might as well learn. You could always count on their older selves to get into trouble with their gambling at least once a week. On a second thought, that was something about which Steve was strangely compliant….

Tony should revisit some of the security footage of those games.

In present time, Bucky perked up, but Clint looked bored again. "No," he said, almost blasphemously considering this was Clint Barton, but Bucky punched him in the arm. Clint glared. It hadn’t worked for the adult Clint and it worked even less on his sullen baby face.

"Come on, Clint! We could get out of some chores!"

“As if.” Sighing dramatically, Clint got up and held out a hand to Tony, who took it. Clint then proceeded to pull Tony into the living room. Well. Tony guessed he had been shown his place. Bucky followed with a spring in his step.

It didn’t take long for Steve to appear in the living room, though it did take double for him to realize what he was seeing. Tony had only just explained the rules, as much as you could explain the rules of _Texas Hold ‘Em_ to a six- and a ten-year-old.

“What are you guys doing?”

“Poker, Cap! Want in? We are betting house chores!”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Does that mean that if I win, you are going to do some?”

Tony made a show of being affronted. “Steve! Don’t speak nonsense. If you win, my robots might, operative word here being ‘might’, do some.”

Steve looked down and smiled ruefully. “How silly of me.”

He winked at Bucky and Clint, who looked riveted by the exchange. At Steve’s wink, Bucky blushed and looked away while Clint giggled.

Not for the first time, Tony wondered at Steve and Bucky’s relationship before and after the war. He might be wrong (though Tony could by the fingers on one hand the times that he had), but he suspected that the defining trait in Cap and Bucky’s relationship was, adorably, a bit of hero worship. This from a guy who had, at first, been twice Steve’s size, then had half of Steve’s self-respect and, in both cases, when the possibility of his estrangement frightened Steve half to death. Well.

Encouraged by the boys’ reactions, Steve took the fourth seat at their breakfast nook and gestured for Tony to deal.

What followed was the most excruciating bout of Poker Tony had ever lived through.

Clint, of course, played randomly, and Tony had folded the current hand, but Steve and Bucky? It was a bloodbath. (Tony wanted desperately to encourage the secret mathematician in Bucky.) The only reason Steve was winning was because he had years of experience on Bucky. Tony really needed to check out the footage of Clint and Bucky’s poker nights.

That was when Bucky started laughing in delight. “No more dishwasher duty for Buck!” he crowed in triumph and put down a pair and a trio.

Steve sighed. Tony was already conjuring terrifying scenarios of loads of dishwasher duty, when Steve placed a straight flush on the table. Bucky gasped. “Well, I guess Buck will remain on dishwasher duty?” Steve said and grinned deviously at Bucky, who was now looking at Steve as if he had hung the moon.

“I demand a rematch!”

Steve looked like he was halfway between laughter and tears and wanted to show neither. “As many as you want, punk.” Bucky narrowed his eyes suspiciously, as if sensing a trap, before turning to his chips, muttering from time to time. It sort of made Tony want to ruffle his hair.

“I don’t have any more money,” announced Clint, pointing at the chips.

The three of them suddenly remembered he was also present.

Bucky, in particular, looked terribly guilty – as if he had somehow been remiss in his duty of taking care of Clint and Natasha. "That's okay, pal! Here, have some of mine."

Steve got that look in his face that announced, “Bucky used to do the same for me.”

Clint just scoffed. “Nope.” Carefully, he climbed down from his seat and went to lean against Steve, who looked terrified. What, did he think he wasn’t allowed to hold the kid? Bucky looked ready to interfere – hesitantly, which Tony counted as a victory – but Tony beat him to it, "Pick him up, Ca—Steve. He can't see your game from down there."

Steve looked both relieved at being told what Clint wanted and more scared, but he picked Clint up and sat the kid on his lap, keeping a careful arm around his middle. Ten minutes later, Clint was out like a light. Maybe they should make Clint take a quick nap after lunch, too. Not that it was any of Tony’s business. Tony chanced a glance at Bucky and saw him glaring awfully hard at his cards. Oh. Interesting. It seemed like every version of Bucky would be a little prone to jealousy over Steve Rogers.

"Hey, Bucky." Bucky glanced at Tony. “What do you think about you and me picking a movie while Steve puts Clint to bed, so the three of us can watch it afterward?” In truth, it was Tony who found himself reluctant to return to his workshop.

Bucky glanced at Steve, who smiled hopefully. “Okay!” Then he grinned. “But I still want that rematch, Steve!”

From the look on Steve’s face, Tony guessed they had just seen a bit of the old Bucky Barnes come back to life.

 

Much like it had happened almost two years ago with the kids’ adult counterparts, that Saturday marked the rebirth of both Movie Wednesdays and Poker Fridays.

The only glaring difference was the schedule. Bedtime was at nine-thirty, which meant team-building time was more of a matinee than a soiree. The films they watched had also been dramatically reduced to Disney, Pixar, and the Ghibli Studios’ movies. Not that anyone seemed to mind, especially Bruce, who was predictably wrapped around the kids’ little fingers. (Natasha had, once more, claimed a favorite.)

Wilson was in charge of the snacks, with Clint’s persistent help and Tony’s helpful input of, “Birds of feather flock together, Wilson,” which exactly no one had thought funny when he said it. Philistines.

Beyond the crowd already accounted for, the only regular presence for both Movie Wednesdays and Poker Fridays was Captain Danvers…. (Tony would be lying if he said he hadn’t lost some time wondering about the nature of her relationship with Steve. It seemed that Tony was remarkably dedicated to wondering about the kind of relationships Steve maintained with his friends.) Thor showed up when he was on Earth, sometimes with Jane, sometimes with Sif. Pepper only if she was in New York, and could take the night off Stark Industries, and always bringing Happy with her. Rhodey came along once or twice.

(It was Poker Fridays that were the popular event, bringing in even their neighbors from Baxter Building, more or less on a regular basis. After the incident with the Aether, they had included Richards’ little ones.)

On such a Wednesday, it was only the usual suspects in the Avengers Tower. Tony was buried to the elbows on financial reports that he needed to work on, having missed his already lax schedule due to AIM’s last plot. He was pondering the merits of begging off movie night when JARVIS’ voice echoed in the workshop, “Sir, Captain Rogers would like me to inform you that Agents Romanoff, Barton and Barnes have settled in to watch _How to Train Your Dragon 2_. He asks if you would like to join them for movie night. Captain Rogers also pointed out that the previously made promise “not to skip” is still in vigor and that Mr. Wilson has made dinner.”

Okay. “Okay. I can do that. Save docs and back up to personal servers.”

“Done, sir.”

“I should take a shower before then, right?”

“I believe so, sir.”

“Ugh.”

It was another half-hour before Tony joined the other Avengers in the entertainment room. The action was already picking up in the movie.

The baby spooks were already sprawled over each other in the largest couch, their faces illuminated only by the television. Bucky was on his back, Natasha lying on his stomach and Clint on the other end of the couch, legs up in a position no one could ever be comfortable in. Steve sat by himself on the loveseat near the windows, looking nothing like he was watching the movie. Danvers and Wilson could be seen talking and sipping beer in the balcony. Of the adults, only Bruce seemed invested in Hiccup and Toothless’ adventures.

“Sorry, I’m late,” said Tony, in place of announcing himself. “I had motor oil in my hair.”

Steve smiled. “I don’t doubt it.”

“Well, I have never given you cause to doubt me,” Tony shot back, taking the seat next to him.

“We saved you a plate, if you’re hungry.”

“Nah, I had a sandwich downstairs a while ago.” Steve quirked an eyebrow. “Okay, half a sandwich… but also a smoothie!” Steve laughed quietly, as if to keep it between them, so Tony considered it – whatever _it_ was – a success.

After the movie and cocoa, courtesy of Bruce—

“Say thank you to Uncle Bruce,” chided Steve, making everyone exchange long-suffering glances, except Bruce, who became a bit teary-eyed. As they were all cool superheroes, no one mentioned it.

—the baby spooks became adorably pliant, which made Tony want to squeeze them against the place where the arc reactor used to be, but settled for putting them to bed and tucking in their bedclothes. It was usually Steve’s job, except on Wednesdays. Tony still wasn’t sure how it had happened, but here he was, doing his part with Steve hovering in the background. In Steve’s defense, his hovering didn’t feel the least bit judgmental.

Tony couldn’t be sure, but it might be that keeping Bucky, Clint and Natasha had become more to Steve than just repaying a debt to their friends.

After helping Bucky taking off the prosthetic arm and ruffling his hair one last time – goodnight kisses were not Tony’s thing – Tony turned to follow Steve out of the room.

“Would you like to meet later to play some ball?” asked Steve, closing the door behind them.

It was not unusual. Both Tony and Steve kept irregular hours, now less so because of the little spy assassins, but still not quite typical. And while Tony really should finish what he had been working on, it had been a while since they had casually fallen into making plans. It wasn’t like Tony could ask. He never knew if he was asking out of friendship or something else and that was a can of worms better left unopened.

It didn’t stop him for accepting any invitation when Captain America decided to indulge Tony with his presence. “Sure, Cap! Give me an hour, an hour and a half and I’ll meet you in the gym… that works for you?”

Steve glanced down and smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Sure.”

It was the rebirth of another Avengers tradition.

 

* * *

 

On Mondays, Steve spent the morning at the New York-based Triskelion (re: the underground levels of Avengers Tower), teaching the Strategics class and Protocols to new recruits. Most of whom might be a bit hung up on him, if Tony might say so himself.

The Avengers Initiative was still a GO, thanks to Tony and Steve's fantastic casting skills, so Steve maintained his rank. He was more than glad to break in the new recruits, especially considering the Avengers had cost SHIELD three of their best. Furthermore, if these kids were going to be the Avengers' safety net, Steve’s little obsessive-compulsive self wanted to know exactly who they were. And he did: he knew all their names, strengths and weaknesses, and even most of their backgrounds. Seeing as Tony was more or less Deputy Director of this circus, pun intended, he was glad for Steve’s diligence. It saved him time.

So Monday was Steve’s break from the insanity that was their penthouse and Tony’s break from the insanity that was SHIELD.

Case in point of insanity: Tony stalked quickly through the halls, with Natasha perched on his hips – which just hadn’t been made for the purpose they were currently being employed at – while encouraging, via glares and a disappointed moue, the two surly boys to follow. He headed straight to the mess hall, where Steve was probably having lunch with Danvers and Wilson.

As he entered the room, Steve glanced towards the doorway and his face lit up in the sweetest of smiles. Tony hated that. It made him get dangerous ideas into his head.

Natasha, the little suck-up, quickly forgot her tantrum and leaned forward until Tony let her down. She ran towards Steve, who was more than glad to lift her up onto his lap. Even Danvers looked about to perish from the cuteness and Wilson was, of course, cooing at Natasha. Tony didn’t hold it against either of them, because a) the kids were adorable and b) Sam had insisted that Steve ask Tony before moving all the way to Brooklyn with the kids. (For which Tony hadn’t forgiven Steve yet.)

"You little manipulative brat, don’t think I can’t see right through you," Tony said to Natasha as he approached the table. She looked just the right amount of mischievous and judgmental to make her older self proud. "Five minutes ago, you'd think I was going to sell her to slavery, but now you got your favorite, don't you?" To be fair, Natasha sought out Tony’s company on occasion, usually when Steve was worrying a bit too much, but well. She knew how to get what she wanted, the perfect little creature. Natasha smiled beatifically.

Speaking of which.... "Right, Steve, I know Monday is the day I work from home, but Pepper just called a shareholders’ meeting and she’s getting on my case to approve the latest R&D project, which means I need to actually read the report beforehand and there's this entire intelligence agency which just won’t run itself. It’d be fine if these three were in a collaborative mood, but they aren’t!” He didn’t look at the two sullen boys behind him.

Steve looked like he was only getting half of what Tony was saying and Danvers looked like she might just laugh in his face. Tony did not appreciate it.

“Clint and Bucky are getting on each other’s nerves and, frankly, on mine as well, and I am one strong independent genius billionaire—.”

“Playboy philanthropist,” Steve piped up helpfully.

“—But I cannot do it all!" A few agents snickered, before a quelling look from Captain Marvel made them turn back to their lunches. "It’s just one day a week and it is the day Natasha chooses to be absolutely impossible, all questions and stubbornness. Never again am I taking the morning to mind the brats! I think it’s time we started looking into boarding schools. So, toodles! See you later, don’t worry about dinner, etcetera."

And before Steve could get a word in edgewise, Tony around and left as quick as he could without actually breaking into a full run. As soon as he was out of the mess hall – ugh, why was Steve in the mess hall, didn’t they live, like, a hundred floors up – he headed to Stark Industries HQ, or, as he liked to called it, floors 0 to 72. (To be fair, Tony didn’t think that there was a distinction between Stark Industries and SHIELD, resources-wise, at this point.)

Later that night, when he got home with Chinese takeaway, Steve was sitting in the kids’ playroom, or Tony’s revamped library, with the baby spooks.

Natasha was tucked into his side on the sofa, sleepily resting her head on his stomach while Clint and Bucky tried to beat each other at Mario Kart. They were using the special joysticks Tony had built for them, taking into account Bucky's single arm. (The controls seemed to be working fine, despite the fact that Barnes was terrible at video games, young or old, but Tony would take a look later.)

Clint seemed to have turned off his hearing aids and was smiling sweetly at the invectives Bucky was pretending to mutter under his breath as if Steve couldn’t hear him cussing. Steve twitched at the occasional bad word, but he looked more amused than anything else.

He lifted his head when Tony shuffled into the room. "Hey, Tony,” he greeted with a small smile. “Clint and Bucky are ready to apologize, if you have a minute."

Tony would have waved him off. The kids dealt with far worse due to Steve and Tony's issues, but Steve was pretty adamant that they needed to learn how to deal with the consequences of their actions. Besides, if Tony had learned anything by having a bunch of superheroes with larger-than-life personalities underfoot, was that Captain America and Iron Man, as de facto leaders, must support each other when it came to discipline. Or else, these smart, smart people would feed on their weaknesses. So yeah: apologies.

Also: who would have said that leading the Avengers would be a crash course in co-parenting?

(Tony, that’s who, every time he pointed out how they were leading a bunch of children. He missed the older version of their special spooks a surprising lot sometimes.)

Clint was the first, as usual, looking meek. "We’re sorry we didn't obey you when you told us to stop running in the workshop and then broke your tablet."

"You didn't break it, you shattered the visor,” Tony corrected. He was quick to add, “But it's okay," when Clint flinched at his tone.

Steve frowned. Before Tony could amend what he said yet again – only the Lord knew what these people wanted from him, Jesus Christ – Bucky piped up, "And we're sorry we tried to hide it behind the sofa. We should’ve accepted the responsa—responsibilities of our actions." Not his words, obviously, but what made Tony pause was the challenge in Bucky’s tone.

Tony would have been a little annoyed at the parroting, if it didn’t look like Barnes really believed what he was saying….

Regardless of if the kids believed Steve or not, it was easy for him to preach when he hadn’t been the one around at the time.

What were you even supposed to say in a situation like that? It wasn’t like his tablet was irreplaceable, as Tony had backups of his backups, or that Tony couldn’t easily buy or even built a new one in a few hours.

Should he have shouted? Should he have grounded them?

Clint and Bucky hadn’t done it on purpose. He hadn’t even told them to be careful with it in the first place and not to make noise. He had just wanted them out of his hair while he made a couple of calls to Stark Industries. You couldn’t just ground children because they had scared you shitless with the noise and all the shouting.

As far as Tony could tell, Steve always made sure everyone knew what they were and weren’t supposed to be doing, but Tony didn’t know what he himself was supposed to be doing half the time, how was he supposed to evaluate what other people were supposed to be doing?

Tony had sent them to their room while he took a breath and tried to calm down. He spent a couple of minutes kicking himself for panicking over such a stupid thing. It was just kids being kids, not aware of what they were doing and how much things cost, but wasn’t that what was right? Kids being kids? It hadn’t helped, because Tony then had thought, “This is it, right?” Whatever Tony did – had done – was what they were going to remember later on: if he was fair, if he was good to them, if he hurt them or not.

In the end, Tony hadn’t done of much of anything, just got them bundled for the drafty hallways of the Tower, told them to follow him – that was when Natasha started to throw a tantrum and he had to pick her up – and, as quickly as he could, foisted them onto Steve.

Pretty much par the course for Howard’s son, except Tony, at least, hadn’t foisted them onto a nanny.

Steve was still frowning, looking between Tony and the boys, and Bucky and Clint were yet to resume their game. Bucky looked angry and Clint looked a bit sick and Tony was starting to feel that way, too. Everything seemed like a horrible idea all of a sudden and it was time Tony got the hell out of dodge.

“Well,” Steve said and his voice clearly conveyed this was not the time to argue. “Let’s just set the table and have dinner. Chinese, right? Setting the table is your duty for the week, guys, as we discussed.” Oh, so that was the punishment. “Tony will help you.” To Tony, he added, “They’ll also pay you back the cost of fixing your tablet.”

“Cap, that’s—.”

“Too expensive, I think,” Steve interrupted, “so they’ll pay you a little every month from their allowance, until they pay everything.”

Bucky and Clint nodded. Seriously. So fucking stupid; it wasn’t like Tony was a billionaire or anything. “Fine,” he snapped. “Let’s get the table, guys.”

As Tony helped Clint with the plates – they should hire a governess to do this kind of thing –, Bucky said, placing the silverware on the table with a bit more aggressiveness that Steve would usually allow, “We’re sorry, you know? We didn’t mean to break it.” Clint froze and looked up at Tony, who placed a hand on his bony shoulder.

“I know that. And you didn’t even break it.”

“Then why are you still mad?” Bucky asked, crossing his arms, the real and the prosthetic, over his small chest. “You can fix it and we’re gonna pay for it, so. Steve’s getting upset.”

Oh, Tony thought, amused despite himself, God forbid anyone upset Steve on Bucky’s watch. Sighing, he repeated, “I’m not upset.” Seeing as Bucky and Clint still looked dubious, Tony added, “Look, I’m not upset. Just—I’m sorry I left you guys with Steve today, okay?”

Bucky shrugged, “It’s okay. You were angry with us and we got to watch Carol beat the crap out of—.”

“Swear jar,” Tony admonished automatically.

“—of the new guys,” Bucky finished, rolling his eyes.  When he resumed setting the silverware, he looked happier.

“She pinned one guy to the floor with her legs,” Clint added. “It was so cool.” Ha, Natasha’s old-school technique of crushing a man with her thighs; of course Clint would love it.

As both of them looked a little more cheered, it occurred to Tony, belatedly – wasn’t he supposed to be a fucking genius? – that Bucky and Clint might have been upset because they thought Tony was upset…. Hm. How about that? Tony couldn’t help but to ruffle Bucky’s hair, squeezing Clint to his side. Bucky blushed and spared Tony a small smile while Clint was more than happy to oblige and clutch at Tony’s trouser leg.

As they finished setting the table, Steve came into the breakfast nook, with Natasha on his hip and really? He also didn’t have the hips for it. “All done?”

“Almost. Let me just go get the food.”

The table was round-shaped and, coincidentally or not, they all had been taking their usual grown-up seats. Steve and Tony on opposing sides of the table, Natasha on one side and the boys on the other. It was the first time Tony could put a name to the funny feeling that appeared whenever he sat at the table and looked around. He felt warm and tingly all the way to the tips of his toes.

It had taken him this long to recognize the feeling as happiness.

 

Later on, after Steve put the kids to bed and headed to his studio to spend some quality time with himself – most days, Tony got the kids up in the mornings and Steve put them down at night, that was the deal –, Tony didn’t feel like locking himself up in his workshop. He grabbed a couple of hybrid laptops and headed to the living room to work on the couch. He put his feet up, threw an afghan over his legs and set his workstation around himself, ready to be productive. He was out like a light in fifteen minutes.

 

Hours later, Tony startled awake with the sound of footsteps in the kitchen. By the thread and pace, Tony could tell it was Steve. “Cap?”

Steve appeared in the doorway. “Sorry, did I wake you? I was just about to check in on the kids.” He was drying his hands with a dishcloth, so he had probably been washing the dishes from dinner.

Tony glanced at his watch. Three thirty in the morning. “Do you do this often?”

Steve hesitated, then said apologetically, “A couple of times a night.”

A couple of—. Tony felt his hackles start to rise. “I did program JARVIS to wake me up in case they started showing any signs of distress, you know? I even monitor physiological indicators, I can take care of three small humans for the night, I even promise to return them in perfect condition—.”

Steve rolled his eyes and came further into the room, throwing the dishcloth behind himself after a cursory glance. “I know that, Tony. This is not about what you can do.” Tony narrowed his eyes at him, but well. He supposed not everyone could program the world’s most advanced AI for the sole purpose of checking up on their kids. He drew his legs back as an invitation, which Steve took. “What were you working on?”

Tony sighed. “Hill’s SHIELD memos. You read them?”

Steve patted Tony’s left foot kindly and left his hand on it. “I wrote some of them.”

“So you know that sooner or later we are going to have to make an appearance and justify certain disappearances. The other Avengers units have been keeping up with the workload so far, but—.”

“Okay, how about we leave that for tomorrow?” Tony snorted. ‘Tomorrow’ he had just about another gazillion of things to do. Steve frowned. “Tony.”

“Steve,” Tony parroted in the exact same tone. Seeing Steve’s expression darken, he snapped, “Oh, what do you want me to do? Leave it? I have delegated all that I can, short of—.” Steve opened his mouth, but Tony cut him off, “No. Don’t even suggest it.”

“What?”

“You can’t take me out of the team! _I am Iron Man._ ”

Steve looked heavenward. Tony did not appreciate it. “I wasn’t going to suggest that.”

“Then what were you going to say?”

“I was going to ask if there was anything I could do?”

Tony stopped. Uh. Steve’s face softened and he stroked his thumb over Tony’s covered foot. “Tony. Just—.” He huffed, frustrated. He turned to face Tony, looking resolute. It was a look that always did things to Tony. “I know kids take a lot of time—.”

“Steve, no, that’s a non-issue, don’t even think—.”

“I know. If you would just stop interrupting.” Steve gave Tony a pointed look and waited until Tony nodded, before continuing. He looked down at his hand on Tony’s foot. “Okay. Right. You know, I never once doubted you had, and have, their best interests in mind. I didn’t want to lose them. The kids and I didn’t get along, but the idea of not having Bucky and Natasha – Clint too, of course – was.” Steve lifted his head to look at Tony. “I should’ve known you’d be great with them.” Steve smiled. Tony thought it was not unlike being sucker punched in the stomach. “I should’ve tried to convince you we were the best option. No one we could have chosen could have understood. So why not us, who had already known and loved them?”

“Well,” Tony started, throat suddenly dry, but Steve was quick to interrupt.

“Whatever you are going to say, you are great with them and I shouldn’t have doubted and I am sorry, Tony.” Steve was looking at Tony, who found himself wondering if stealing a kiss from Steve would be worth the fallout. “I know they take time. If you didn’t sit with us for dinner and breakfast, if you didn’t stay on Wednesdays and Fridays, if you didn’t help with homework, you’d have more time to take care of yourself. So.” His hand traveled from Tony’s foot to his shoulder, thumb resting against Tony’s pulse point. Steve suddenly was very close. “So. I’m sorry for having doubted you. And thank you. Anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

Tony didn’t know what to say, so he said, “Steve.” Something in his tone must have reached Steve because he smiled and pulled Tony to his side. Tony shifted until he was leaning against Steve, Steve’s arm pleasantly heavy around his shoulders.

“You're my best friend, Tony. You’d expect I had learned to trust you by now, but there you go. Bucky always said I was such a punk, I’d probably die if someone tried to make me think before I act.” Sometimes, Tony regretted he hadn’t got to know adult Bucky Barnes better. Steve pulled Tony closer against his chest for a moment and started to let go. “I can’t imagine myself doing this with anyone else.”

Tony wanted to laugh (cry) in the face of Steve’s earnestness and ask, “What, having kids?” but he couldn’t bring himself to make a joke. It had been a long time since he and Steve had spent some time together, just the two of them, talking.

Granted, their buddy quality time didn’t usually include blatant cuddling – more like stolen touches pretending to be casual, in Tony’s case; and manly pats in the back and shoulder squeezes, in Steve’s; but who’s been paying attention? – but lately neither of them had had much time for friendly comfort and maybe Steve did need a bit of reassurance that they were in this together.

Steve left his hand on Tony’s shoulders. His cheeks looked charmingly pink, as if all these emotions had left him embarrassed. Tony, on another hand, wanted to pull Steve into his lap and proceed to do some proper exploration.

Instead, he sighed a little and said, “To be fair, I excel at pushing people’s buttons. I know better than to try pushing you into doing what I think is best. I would say better people than you have tried to resist when I push, but there really aren’t any,” he finished with a smirk, pleased when Steve blushed. He was not prepared, however, for the searching look Steve gave him afterward.

Tony cleared his throat, looking away. It was easy to forget his place with Steve: he should probably knock the flirting down a peg or two.

It would not be exactly easy, not with Steve’s sudden permanent presence in his life. It was one thing to be hopelessly in love with your best friend when you still kept a couple of casual affairs on the side and dated regularly. It was quite another to have domesticity shoved in your face, when you couldn’t make a grab for it.

Not that having three kids had ever featured in Tony’s fantasies, but this? A family of Avengers and Steve in his life? Not really unexpected.

Besides, Tony was fond of the kids. He wanted things for them, wanted to buy things for them, things that weren’t expensive or special, just things they might like – Dr Seuss books for Natasha, a set of illusionist tricks for Bucky, silly child-appropriate video games for Clint –, he wanted to make them be good, be someone, make someone of themselves. He knew this was why Steve had fought so hard to keep them. So that these three people – strong, talented, kind in their own ways, who had given Tony and Steve respect and a friendship they often didn’t deserve – could have a chance of being whoever they wanted to be, as they hadn’t had before.

It would be Tony’s privilege to help Steve honor this debt to their three friends because Tony had always been lucky like that. Good things happened to him, even when he didn’t deserve them. So, yeah, he could be a parent. He could raise three kids and he might as well try his best for them and, since Tony was hopeless, for Steve as well.

As Tony had his epiphany, Steve looked at Tony through his eyelashes, a fond smile on his face, as if he knew what Tony was thinking. Steve had probably never doubted Tony’s ability to get there after he’d taken that first step in Steve’s Brooklyn apartment. Steve’s faith in Tony was yet to become old or any less humbling. And the sight of him right now… Tony wanted to do unspeakable things to him.

He settled for, “You know, I still have a couple of spare bedrooms. If you’re going to be trekking back and forth through my tower, you might as well keep your bedroom here.” If he wanted, he could even share Tony’s.

In fact, having some marital benefits to fit his new family man status would be… nice.

 

* * *

 

They were having dinner on a regular Thursday when the house phone rang. Tony didn’t even know he had an actual physical device. It was JARVIS who took the calls for Tony.

Steve, very sui generis, immediately waved Tony back into his seat, despite the fact that Tony’s Butler was a goddamn AI and, thus, more than able to take the call. Steve’s peculiarities would have been exasperating for Tony, as usual, had Steve not passed by the breakfast nook looking pale and gone to take the call in the kids’ playroom.

Steve was not usually secretive, unless it was SHIELD business, but he took those calls in his communicator. Even if that were the case, he would have taken the time to ask Tony to resume Steve’s task of feeding Natasha. The fact that the subject of this phone call had made Steve forget about their little play at domesticity made Tony pay attention.

Steve returned in what would have been a cheerful mood, if he wasn’t such an awful liar. Tony saw right through him. Even the kids looked wary. "Anything important?" Tony asked and mentally cringed at how worried he sounded.

Steve forced a smile and said, "We’ll talk about it later," which did nothing to improve Tony's mood. Steve looked tense, in contrast with his self of fifteen minutes ago, who had been making faces at Natasha so she would eat. Tony did not appreciate the change.

Steve resumed feeding Natasha while Bucky and Clint wiped their plates clean. Steve might have strict rules about bedtime, but Bucky and Clint were quite happy to make the best use of their last hours of freedom – which meant Mario Kart for Clint and cartoons for Bucky – and waste as little time possible eating. As soon as they were done—

“Can we go play?” Clint asked.

“Yeah, can we?” Bucky insisted.

—Steve let them leave the table.

After Steve deemed her food intake worthy, Natasha also was allowed to climb down of her seat and dash away, as fast as her short legs would allow her, to seat next to Clint on the floor.

Steve waited until he was sure they were entertained to say, “Could we maybe meet later in the gym? We could play some ball. We haven’t done that in a while.” There was a grim downturn to his mouth, of which Tony was aware completely by accident, of course. It didn’t bode well for the conversation they would have.

“Sure, Cap. Around ten?”

Later, when Tony walked into the gym, Steve was punching the living lights out of a reinforced punching bag.

"Well, Cap. I think it learned his lesson by now...." He startled when, instead of answering, Steve delivered a hearty punch to his sandy foe. Well. Tony was officially worried. Steve turned around, thereby depriving Tony of the wonderful picture his ass made in those sweatpants.

Steve started to unwrap his hands as if the adhesive had ever done anything to him, and asked, "Basketball?"

Tony’s self-preservation instinct had never been the greatest, but he was smart enough not to get in Captain America’s path when he was in one of his moods. (That first day in the Helicarrier notwithstanding.) Since the beginning, Tony had been quite proficient at checking Cap for his sharp edges. It took one to know one, he supposed. Today did not seem to be one of those days, despite all appearances to the contrary. It seemed to Tony that Steve was looking for… a talk.

(It was also not unusual between them. Even before the arrival of the baby spooks, there had been too much shit between them; too much shit they had faced together, in too many worlds. Tony couldn’t think of anyone else who had seen so many of Tony’s glitches and hadn’t left.)

Together, they headed towards the small court. They shot a couple of hoops as warm up and then got properly into the game. Tony could tell Steve was going easy on him, as usual. Back before they had arranged for three small pests to be in their lives, Tony would have teased him, saying, "Feeling sorry for the old man?" So that was what he did.

Steve rolled his eyes, smoothly dunking the ball in the basket. "Yeah, you're geriatric. And I'm ninety-seven?"

"So why aren't you playing to win, Cap?"

"Sometimes it’s not about winning Tony,” Steve said patiently, trying to trick Tony into letting him through his defense. Tony glowered at the tone and didn’t let up – pushing Steve’s with his left shoulder, maybe with a bit more of force than usual, and stealing the ball out of his hands – which only made Steve smirk. He looked so hot when he was succeeding at winding Tony up.

Steve’s face softened into a smile. “I’m serious. I just wanted to spend some time with you."

Ah, right on time as always, his disarming honesty. Just when Tony’s mind was starting to fog with thoughts of ‘I’d climb that like a tree’, Steve would say these things that morphed Tony’s rather pornographic fantasies into soft-focus homoerotica. Clearly, Tony needed help.

In his distraction, Tony stumbled and Steve laughed with his whole face, sneaking the ball away from Tony. Tony just let him, taking a moment to appreciate the view as Steve jumped to put the ball through the basket. Tony was doomed, that’s what he was; crazy in love with Captain America.

Of course, this kind of back-and-forth between them did nothing to help Tony’s gargantuan and sudden desire to hope and take chances, so – in a desperate attempt to return his mood to its usual functional, borderline alcoholic, cynic misery – Tony asked, "Are we going to talk about the call you got during dinner sometime tonight, or what?"

"Yeah," Steve sighed, catching the ball in one swift move.

"So," Tony prompted as they slumped down on the yoga mats, drying up sweat with red-gold towels. "Not that it's any of my business…."

"It is. It's just, well, that was Reed Richards calling—."

Tony sat up straight. "Excuse you? Why ever for, my good Captain?" Whatever Richards had done now….

"I called Richards and Doctor Strange after Bucky, Clint, and Natasha were turned into children and asked if they thought there was anything we could do to bring them back," Steve said, jaw set in a determined scowl.

"You wanted to bring them back," Tony repeated flatly.

Steve crossed his arms in front of his chest. "No one was talking about it, not you or SHIELD. I mean, I understand that Frigga is powerful, but you all just accepted her word as if it was gospel—.”

“She knows more about goddamned magic than anyone we know. She taught Loki, for Christ’s sake! When someone like that speaks, you listen, buddy!”

“Right. Unacceptable. None of you seemed to think what she did could be reverted. So I talked to Strange, who told me I should talk to Richards. After I got them both privy to the situation, they told me they’d call if they thought of anything and I never heard from them since. That was almost a year ago. I figured there was nothing they could do and left it at that. ”

Finally, Tony had a name for the tension that had settled in Steve’s posture after Richards’ phone call: defeat. “Steve. Bucky, Clint, and Nat were happy, you and I, we’re happy, why do you want to go mess with magic again?” It was obvious what was the gist of what Richards had told him and what Steve thought they should do. It became a little difficult to breathe.

Tony was startled into taking a gasping breath when Steve seized him by the shoulders, so close that Tony almost forgot to panic.

"Tony, don’t you think that when the HYDRA and AIM get word of the two of us having three kids coincidentally called Bucky, Clint, and Natasha, things are going to get dangerous?"

Tony threw his hands upwards. "Not as dangerous as this!” He gripped Steve’s wrists. “No one has a fucking clue about magic, I’m not taking those chances!"

"Tony.” Steve pulled back, leaving a chasm of coldness between them. “I think we owe it to them. We have no right to kill who they were, because of our personal feelings."

Now there was something that pissed Tony off. Steve pretending he had called Strange and Richards out of the goodness of his heart and not because he missed Natasha like crazy and refused to lose Bucky Barnes for the third time.

Tony missed them, too! Except—Tony had been a lonely figure before the incident with the Aether. Not quite placed on a pedestal like Steve, but marked as someone made from different stuff than the Avengers, who had been dealt some shitty deals in life. So, this? Tony didn’t feel like he had lost his friends, like Steve did, but rather like he had won them.

In the light of that, Steve’s determination seemed almost tragic. How like Captain America, to lay on the wire for the next guy. How like Captain America, to accept a loss as a necessary part of duty. But Steve? Without his higher alter-ego’s morality at work, Steve fought tooth and nail to keep his people. Tony could work with that.

"Do you even think any of them had good lives? They’ve got a second chance. I say we give it to them! We don’t even need to keep them with us. Like I said from the beginning if it’s safer—."

Steve’s eyes flashed with something Tony was not surprised to realize was possessiveness. "No. Tony. They’re our teammates, our friends, and our family. We keep them, either way. It’s got to be us, can you understand that?”

Oh, Tony understood perfectly. He was still a little blindsided by the fierceness with which Steve clung to their little family. He briefly wondered if he could count himself as such, but he knew himself well enough to know that, at the moment, he just wanted to push Steve onto his back and give back a bit of his devotion.

Steve continued, “If it were you, wouldn't you want us to give you back your agency?"

There were very few things Tony prized more than that. "So we ask them," he concluded.

"They're kids."

"They can't be kids for one thing and adults for another. You say they deserve to keep their agency. So, we ask them.” He looked over at Steve, who was glaring at the pink mat beneath him.

(It used to belong to Natasha. You could have used it, if you wanted to suffer Natasha’s passive-aggressive wrath.)

“Steve?” Steve lifted his eyes to meet Tony’s. “Let's schedule a meeting with Richards and Strange for Monday and we could do something fun for the weekend. Oh! We could go to Disneyworld! In fact, we are going to leave in the morning, the kids can skip class. JARVIS—."

“Working on it, sirs.”

What else would they need? “Okay. We need to pack, we need to—.”

Tony stopped at the hand that closed on his right upper arm, but he could not look at Steve. Steve, who said, "I'm sorry, Tony. I shouldn't have—without talking to you, and now I’ve made such a mess of things. You and the kids didn’t deserve—."

And that was definitely not what Tony needed right now. What Tony needed right now was to go buy silly things for their spy assassins and oh, Jesus, their rooms, how was Tony going to deal with their rooms when the older versions of the kids returned to their suites? But Steve had never run from a fight and he wasn't planning on letting Tony employ his old buddy denial on the matter.

A second hand closed over his other arm and Steve pulled Tony until they were facing each other. His hands were big and warm but, when he chanced a glance upwards, Steve looked heartbroken. Pretty much like Tony felt. "Sorry."

"Not your fault, Cap—." Steve flinched and Tony said, kinder, "Steve. Not your fault. It's just a shitty deal, right? Christ, I'm going to miss them."

When Steve looked up again, it was with that goddamned searching look.

Without the baby spooks, what would Tony and Steve have between them?

Tony looked away.

 

* * *

 

On Monday, Tony swaggered into the deluxe meeting room on level minus 3. It was one of the two that had a system of mirrors to deliver the sunlight from the street. Both rooms were close enough to the ground level and far enough from the lower levels to be considered the safest option to meet freelance contractors and consultants.

“Good afternoon, gentleman,” he greeted.

Steve was already inside, having spent the morning at SHIELD. He looked unruffled, in his star-spangled suit. Tony would have hated him for it if he himself hadn’t been brought up to look perfectly composed in all circumstances. His eyes narrowed at Tony’s late entry, but well. Tony had been getting late for things for longer than Steve had been biologically alive.

Unexpectedly, Steve said nothing. He had been nothing but pliable since last Thursday, even during their impromptu vacation.

Tony just wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or because Steve felt guilty about involving Richards and Strange. In which case: stupid. Steve had only ever done what he thought was best, when Tony had been wallowing in denial, when he had wanted to get the reminder of his loss out of his face and pawn the kids over to foster care.

If it was the case – unlikely, but not impossible – that Steve was feeling sorry for Tony, well. It made Tony feel a bit sick. Pity from Captain America? Tony could deal with a lot of bullshit, but not that.

Besides, being late always gave Tony the advantage of being looked down upon. In fact, Reed Richards was sneering at him. Tony smiled cheerfully, patting him in the chest. “Richards. How does today find you?”

“Extremely busy, Stark. In fact—.”

“With what, wrecking havoc in the world? Or just New York City? No thanks.” Tony smirked. “How is Sue? The kids? Johnny?”

Richards, despite the nervous twitch in his left eye, opened his mouth to retort. But Steve was quicker, “Can you stop antagonizing our allies, Tony? I’d like to get down to business as soon as possible—,” Tony lifted an eyebrow and started to reply, when Steve snapped, “For Christ’s sake! We don’t have time for this right now. Reed, Doctor Strange—.”

“I have eight doctorates,” Tony muttered sullenly, but Steve ignored him.

“Thank you, Captain,” allowed Strange. He didn’t look frustrated or angry, but he didn’t look amused either. He seemed like he was… observing. It made Tony nervous. “I appreciate that you called the resident expert in alternate dimensions like I asked. I have a theory, but I would like to have it validated. Perhaps then we can work on bringing your friends back to their former selves—.”

“Cut to the chase, Strange,” interrupted Tony. “Can you bring them back or not?”

Steve started to protest – something about not biting the hand that feeds you, as he had mentioned once or a million times before – but Strange nodded. He said, “My apologies. I understand this must be a delicate moment for you, but I must explain or I make the situation much worse.” When Tony remained silent, he added, “You see, magic, much like science, has its laws. We cannot create something out of thin air. We can only accelerate the natural process and it takes a powerful sorcerer, or a goddess if you will, to do something like it. And, before anything else, I hope you appreciate what was done for your sake.”

“We are grateful, Strange,” said Steve tightly. “They would be dead if Frigga hadn’t stepped in. We are grateful. We just want to give them a chance to get back to normal. They know better than any of us what the costs of being unmade are. I would do anything to stop them from suffering through it again.”

“I know you are grateful, I just don’t think you understand what is at stake here,” said Strange. “You cannot make something appear into this world. You must bring it in.”

“And something of equal mass-energy ratio must leave,” added Reed, leaning forward in his seat, looking much more interested.

Strange nodded. “It is as I suspected.” To Tony and Steve, he said, “The queen of the Aesir is one of the most powerful beings in the Universe. What she did, and I urge you to think about the implications, was to create an alternate universe from its beginning and steal your friends away before they became something else.”

“She created a whole new universe?” Steve repeated dubiously, at the same time Tony snapped, “Then why is Barnes missing an arm? This is bullshit!”

“She did not create a whole new Universe, Captain,” explained Strange, looking apologetic, “I’m afraid that would require someone bigger than Frigga and no one has seen Him—.”

“Or Her,” said Tony flatly.

“— _or Her_ , in a while,” Strange finished, with a nod in Tony’s direction. “Frigga has not the power to create a whole new Universe, but she has the power to create an alternate version of this one, a copy if you will, incomplete and rudimentary. She created it, using this world as its cast. She accelerated history until the point where your friends would still be your friends and then she took them out of it. Without her to sustain it, this alternate world, would simply… cease to exist. Like a soap bubble made from a larger one.”

“What you said about equal mass-energy ration, Reed,” Tony prompted. Steve turned towards Richards, who nodded.

“If the three children came in,” he confirmed, “then your Avengers must have gotten out and imploded with the alternate dimension, thus limiting the damage made by the Aether to this reality. It’s brilliantly efficient, really.”

“Brilliantly efficient,” Steve repeated, jaw clenching. He turned to Strange. “They’re dead.”

“They already were, from the moment the Aether touched them,” said Tony absently. “You said you could bring them back,” he said to Strange.

“Yes. I could bring back the version of your friends a moment before they were touched by the Aether, but this is where I stop and ask Doctor Richards to take over. Is it possible?”

Richards looked at them for a moment, pressing his hands flat together in front of his face. “I think so. They exist somewhere in the timeline, you can bring them in.”

“We can have them all here?” asked Steve, a slimmer of hope in his blue, blue eyes.

“Something of equal mass-energy ratio must go out,” Tony quoted back at him.

 

Many hours later, JARVIS predictably announced that Steve was headed to the workshop.

"Tony."

"Spangles."

The pointed silence behind Tony was wholly expected. Tony heard Steve sigh and felt him take a seat on the workbench behind Tony. "I'm not sure what's happening here, Tony. I haven't seen you since yesterday.” It was probably almost Wednesday. “I thought, during the weekend—well, clearly I misunderstood—." Steve stopped. Tony could feel him staring at the back of Tony’s head with his Dumbledore-eyes. "No, you know what? I didn't misunderstand. Did I? We are on the same page here, aren’t we?"

Tony glanced behind himself to see that Steve had his arms crossed over his chest and a challenging look on his face. Tony contemplated for a moment pretending he had no idea what Steve was talking about, but he suspected Steve would be less understanding than Pepper in regards to Tony's shortcomings and Tony wasn't yet ready to give Steve up.

"I'm not a reliable person, Steve."

From his reflection of one of Tony’s off screens, Tony saw Steve frown. "Okay?"

Tony tried again, turning, "Which version Barton, Barnes, and Natasha are you hoping to get tomorrow? When we take them to Richards’ multiverse chamber?"

Strange could keep a bridge between the two timelines long enough for the adult version of the Avengers and the baby spooks to decide who would live. Tony knew who would be a better choice, who should return, because it was natural that they should. He also knew that was not what he was hoping to get. Steve, with his rather Zen approach to loss, would be glad either way – either with his friends or with the children he had taken in – but Tony had got… _attached_.

"I don't know. I can’t choose." He looked conflicted, bless his soul.

"Well, I do and I can," said Tony. He and Steve looked at each other evenly.

Tony wasn't a believer. He didn't believe any two people were meant to be together by some design of a higher power. What he believed in was that someone either fit your particular brand of crazy or they didn't. And it was only if you were lucky that they would fit you for a long time. It hadn't happened with Pepper and that was all right, because she was happy with Happy – eh – and they, all of them, were still friends. So, Tony didn't believe, but he almost could, for the fact that Steve didn't ask Tony what he was hoping would happen.

Instead, Steve placed both his hands on Tony’s arms and squeezed in comfort. He searched Tony’s face, almost wary.

This time, Tony didn’t look away.

Steve's hands on his arms twitched and Tony could see his eyes shifting as he studied Tony's face with determination. After what seemed like ages, Steve brought his hands to rest on Tony's face. Uh. They were shaking, Tony realized, which filled him with fierce protectiveness. Steve looked both hopeful and resigned, the latter of which was not okay.

Ultimately, it was why Tony gripped the back of his neck and pulled him forward, bringing their lips together. It was supposed to be a chaste kiss, a statement of solidarity and friendship, hadn't Steve sighed a little into it and pulled his stool closer to Tony's. Tony had no choice but to deepen the kiss.

When he pulled back, there was a sweet smile on Steve's face. He looked like someone had finally realized where was the ON switch on the good captain – someone like Tony – because Steve was glowing. And Tony decided he was going to fuck this up, sooner or later, because here was something he wasn’t good enough to keep.

Steve must have seen something on his face. He sighed, eyes downcast as if he was bracing himself for the denial.

Ah no. Fuck no. Tony was done with his shit, he wasn’t going to be a coward like that in front of Captain America, in front of Steve. 

Tony was going to be the selfish bastard that he was and he was going to take and _take_. He was going to keep Steve and the baby spooks, like his own dragon's hoard, a hoard made of Avengers, and he was going to hold onto it, because how was this possible! What could he possibly have done to deserve a year with three perfect kids, who were also his friends, and now Steve looking at Tony with those eyes….

Tony pulled Steve to him. Steve grunted, probably in surprise at how Tony was suddenly all elbows and knees, jerky movements and brittle edges. Tony kissed harder, open-mouthed. He should probably ease up, be more careful with Steve, but Steve was making encouraging noises, hands tight on Tony's neck and well – whatever Steve wanted, he was going to get.

Tony pulled Steve up and into his desk, nudged his legs apart so Tony could settle in between and oh—.

One of Steve's hands was in Tony's hair, the other on his ass. Tony had to break the kiss, press his nose to Steve's neck to breathe him in, following with his mouth so he could taste Steve's skin. Steve was clutching Tony so tightly it was almost painful, but Tony didn't mind, because he wanted to be closer, closer, he wanted to take Steve apart from the inside.

Steve's breath was ragged. When Tony drew back so he could take a look at his handiwork, he saw Steve's eyes were dark with arousal, lips red and tender looking and he looked so, so good.

Good enough to eat. Metaphorically.

Tony snickered at the thought, the humor dispersing a little of his blinding need. "Okay there, Captain?" he asked. Tony sounded wrecked even to his own ears, which was only right.

Steve huffed a laugh, eyes bright, bright. "Yeah." The hand on Tony’s hair stroked gently. "Yeah, let's keep going."

Oh. Tony's lungs expanded of their own accord. Steve might have given the okay to get hot and dirty, but it sounded like he was giving the okay for something else. Something Tony wanted desperately. By then, the fever had been assuaged enough to give Tony funny feelings when he leaned back down to kiss Steve again. The kiss was deeper, gentler. The noises alone, echoing in his workshop, would be enough to get Tony going for a while.

There were hands on the waistband of his sweatpants.

Tony pulled back to look at Steve, who looked a bit sheepish. "You’re taking too long," he protested, punctuating his words with the graceful roll of his hips into Tony's.

Tony wouldn't (couldn't) refuse such an invitation. He hooked his thumbs on Steve's jeans and started to ease them down.

Steve's body was a study in fraying control. He arched his hips into Tony's hands, head thrown back, a fetching flush disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. Tony wanted to have him against his bed-sheets, to look at for as long as he wanted, but at the moment he found he could not do it without embarrassing himself. So he leaned in and caught Steve's mouth, pushing Steve's jeans and briefs down to his thighs.

Steve's breath hitched when Tony closed his hand, wet with spit, around him. Tony stroked him slowly, until Steve pushed at him, breaking the kiss. "You too—take it off," he demanded, tugging at Tony's clothes, until Tony batted his hands away and caught his mouth again. Steve's hands traveled to his ass again – Tony was starting to think Steve was hinting at something – while Tony carefully tugged his pants over his erection.

Steve's hand was on him at once, cupping his balls, wrapping a sweaty hand around his dick. Tony tried to push Steve’s legs apart again, to settle in the warmth between only to find it impossible. Tony knelt down to take Steve’s jeans and briefs off completely, glancing up to watch Steve’s eyes darken with arousal.

Feeling vindicated that he could see the offending garments halfway across the workshop, Tony turned back to Steve. “Steve.” Steve’s blush deepened. The sight of him, legs apart on Tony’s workstation, t-shirt pushed up, cock heavy and leaking. Like a puppet, Tony reached for Steve again, got a hand beneath his shirt and a hand on his perfect, perfect dick. The look on Steve’s face then was something Tony was going to remember. “Look at you.”

Steve smiled. “You can come closer….”

Tony breathed deeply through the complex feelings on his chest. He leaned down to kiss Steve, getting an arm around Steve’s shoulders for leverage. He was going to want to watch. “Get your hand on me, Steve.” Tony look down to see Steve’s hand move on his erection and his own hand around Steve. When he looked up, Steve was watching intently. It felt like a challenge, so Tony didn’t look away, as their rhythm started to quicken. “Look at you, Jesus, look at you,” he muttered against Steve’s lips.

“Tony.” Steve sounded so far gone. On Tony. That was powerful stuff, right there. “Ah.”

“Come on, Steve, let’s finish, just, a bit tighter, a bit faster—oh, oh, babe—.” Steve pulled Tony into a kiss as he came silently, body shaking and chest heaving with the effort.

Mind half gone, Tony jerked Steve off deep and fast. Steve tucked his face into Tony’s neck when he came all over their chests, grunting against Tony’s throat.

“Goddamn, Captain.”

Steve sighed, shifting so Tony could lie more comfortably against him.

After a moment to catch his breath, Tony pulled back and tucked himself into his briefs and jeans. He pushed himself off Steve and leaned against the edge of the opposite workstation. He watched as Steve looked for his clothes, unavoidably drawn to Steve’s softening dick: Steve was like a wet dream come to life, stretching lazily. It made Tony want jump him again. So that was what he did.

The way Steve opened up for it, eagerly and completely, did an amazing job at easing up the anxiety building up in Tony's center. Steve's large hands ran up and down his back, touched his hair. At last, Tony slumped down against Steve. Steve turned his head to brush his nose against Tony’s hair. "Are we finally on the same page here, Tony?"

The million dollar question. "I was on it ages ago, Cap. Just waiting for you to catch up."

"Even if…?" He trailed off.

Tony glanced sharply at him. Steve was looking down. Tony turned Steve's face towards himself. "This ends on your word, darling, not mine." Steve smiled softly and his eyes were kind. Whatever he felt about Tony if it made him look like that, well. It was a look Tony was prepared to walk on burning coal to keep on Steve's face.  “My place or yours, Captain Rogers?"

 

Later on, they were lying side by side on Tony’s bed. Steve was on his stomach, hugging the pillow next to Tony’s, looking like he could just melt into the covers. The inside of his thighs still gleamed with their combined body fluids. Steve was not sleeping, but Tony took care to scoot closer without disturbing him. Of course, as soon as the bed moved, Steve opened one blue, blue eye and looked at Tony suspiciously as if Tony were about to jump him again.

Not a bad idea, but also not what Tony had in mind.

Steve must have seen something on Tony’s face because his expression lost all playfulness and he opened both eyes to look at Tony properly. He didn’t say anything, just glanced over under the soft light of Tony’s bedside lamp. Tony pressed a lingering kiss to his shoulder, then asked, “Think I could do it? Bring up a kid for real?”

Steve brought a hand from under the pillow to rest on Tony’s face, ran his thumb over Tony’s lips. “I am sure of it. You’re amazing and you have a great team in your corner.”

Despite the warmth that filled him, Tony smirked teasingly. “Do I have you in my corner?”

“You do… Tony.” Steve was starting to look sad. “We have no way of knowing who will return to us tomorrow.”

“You know that’s not true. Would you go back to being tiny and vulnerable?” Steve’s silence was enough of an answer. Tony pressed their noses together. “Afterward, if you want to go back to how things were….”

“Tony—.”

“I’m just saying—.”

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this? How long have I wanted you? Even when I moved back to Brooklyn, I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you.” Steve pressed a kiss to Tony’s lips. “Even when I don’t trust you, I love you.”

What. What? “Steve?”

“You don’t have to worry about it. Just don’t try to give me an out. It's insulting.”

The way Steve was looking at Tony was—. “Steve. _Steve_.” Tony threw a leg over Steve and pulled him impossibly closer. Maybe Steve knew what he was saying, even if it was crazy.

Steve snuggled closer. “I’ve got you, Tony.”

Yeah, he really did.

As usual, because too many feelings gave Tony the hives, he teased, voice thick, “What a soldier’s answer. I guess you can take Steve Rogers out of Captain America, but you can’t take Captain America out of Steve Rogers.” Steve laughed, so Tony had no choice but to kiss him. “In fact, if I had my way, you wouldn’t even be able to take Iron Man out of—.”

Steve put a hand over Tony’s mouth, effectively silencing Tony. “Tony. I think it’s a bit early in this relationship to be considering a three-way with a robot.”

“Automaton, at the very least,” Tony corrected automatically. Then he processed what he had just heard. What. “What?” Steve’s body shook with laughter. “You mean—.”

“No, Tony. Go to sleep.” So saying, Steve turned to turn off the light.

Tony’s mind was too busy reeling with the possibilities to protest, so he reached down and pulled the covers over the both of them. He kissed Steve’s shoulder again, slid his hand down to Steve’s back to rest on the swell of his ass – enjoyed the sigh that came out of Steve’s mouth – and settled in for a couple of hours of sleep, before he had to wake the baby spooks for what was probably the last time.

After a moment, in the dark, Steve asked with deceptive – Tony was onto him – concern, “Are you still thinking about a three-way with Iron Man?”

“You’re a menace, Cap.”

Steve laughed.

When he settled, Tony added, “You know, I’ve loved Captain America since I was a kid. I didn’t expect to love Steve Rogers as well.”

Steve didn’t make a sound, but Tony could feel the weight of his stare.

Tony continued, “I didn’t expect to have a team or friends. I figured I was lucky enough to have Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy. After the Avengers Initiative took off, I didn’t expect we’d become a family and we didn’t. Until half the Avengers turned into kids. I mourned my friends when they were gone and now I’m supposed to do the same for my—my kids. I won’t be in a good place after tomorrow, Steve. You should know that. I’m not in a good place right now.”

“I can wait, Tony.”

Tony was torn between telling him to stop being stupid and run a hand through Steve’s back. He chose the latter. Tony, the non-believer, tried to remember if his early days with Pepper had felt this nerve-wracking. (He didn't think it had been this bad.)

After a moment, Steve asked, "Will you talk to the kids before we head to Baxter Building?"

Tony sighed. "I don't do goodbyes."

"I think they want you to. I explained what was going to happen and they think you're mad at them. Natasha is being a little brat and Clint has a perpetual pout on his face."

"Bucky?"

"I think Bucky is considering physical violence."

That startled a laugh out of Tony. He missed them already. He turned to look at Steve. "Yeah, okay. We could have pizza for breakfast?"

"Thank you." Steve pressed a casual kiss to Tony's lips, leaving Tony trying to resist the urge to smooth a hand over his mouth like an Austen heroine.

Tony hoped Steve would apply the same amount of comfort tomorrow. "Tomorrow, we're going together, right? As in, together _together_?"

"Of course."

 

* * *

 

They had arranged to meet Richards and Strange at the Baxter Building, so they could use Richards’ multi-verse scanner to join both versions of the scary spy assassins.

Of the three of them, only Natasha was talking – _clinging_ , at the moment – to Tony. Bucky had taken to glare at him and Clint looked like someone had canceled Christmas indefinitely. It spoke about the mood they were all in that Steve wasn’t even frowning at Tony for not doing something about it. As if Tony would. They were about to send the baby spooks to die instead of the adults. Tony didn’t think either of them deserved any forgiveness.

Steve hovered at Tony’s side, one hand tight on Bucky’s shoulder and Clint on his hip.

It occurred to Tony that this would be the last time he and Tony would have to juggle the kids around.

“You guys ready?” asked Richards. He sounded sympathetic. Well. Screw him.

Strange was waiting by the multi-verse scanner.

Clint stared at him warily, while Bucky glared, placing himself between Strange and his sibl—teammates. _Teammates_. When they reached him, Tony and Steve put down their respective burdens. With a nod from Steve, Strange gestured at the kids to follow him. Steve had probably explained what was going to happen, because Bucky took Natasha and Clint’s hand and motioned to follow Strange, without looking back. But Clint – Clint glanced over his shoulder and waved them goodbye. And that was the last drop for Tony.

“Okay, wait. _Wait_.”

“Tony, please—.”

“No. Shut up, Steve.”

Tony knelt down and the baby spooks turned back to look at him – in Bucky’s case, hopefully. Fuck. Okay. “Okay. Look, guys. We are doing this for your own good, okay? The older versions of you would kick our asses—.”

“ _Tony_.”

“Hush, Cap. Listen,” he added to the kids. Natasha’s green eyes were very wide, as she looked at Tony. “Steve and I really, really want you guys here with us, okay? There’s nothing we wouldn’t do to keep you with us, except hurting you guys. And that’s what we’d be doing, if we didn’t give you a chance to choose whether you want to stay or not. So. I—that is, we—.”

“We love you,” said Steve. His eyes were suspiciously red. “Both of us. Isn’t that right, Tony?”

Tony glanced at the kids. Natasha was sucking on her thumb, unshed tears in her eyes. Clint looked like he might cry. Tony hated that look on his face, the one that said he believed he was being left behind, that he was not good enough to fight for. (He had seen it once or twice in adult-Barton’s face.) Before Tony could reach for him, Steve was there, pulling Clint into his massive arms. Bucky—fuck, Bucky’s lip was quivering.

Tony thought Bucky looked too fucking young for this shit they were putting him through. “Shit. Bucky.” Tony pulled him and Natasha close. On his left, Steve scooted closer and put his free arm around all of them, squeezing Clint between his chest and Tony’s arm.

“We’re going to miss you guys, too,” said Bucky. He curled his real arm around Tony’s shoulders leaned his head on Tony’s left one. Tony pulled him closer. Clint nodded resolutely, while Natasha sighed and wiped her dripping nose on Tony’s shirt. He didn’t even mind.

Finally, it was Steve – of course it was; his bravery was the stuff of legends – who said, “All right, guys. We need to do this. Ready?”

Tony suddenly wished he had spent more time with the kids on the last couple of days, more like every second, Disneyworld getaway notwithstanding. Nonetheless, he nodded, squeezed the kids the best he could one last time and sent them off.

Tony insisted to himself that the only one who was going to be traumatized in the end was himself – and Steve. Barnes, Natasha, and Barton wouldn’t even remember any of it.

The kids went with Strange.

As soon as the door to the multi-verse scanner’s main chamber closed behind them, Steve curled into himself, face crumbling. Tony wanted to say something, but he had no spare comfort left to give Steve. (And, if he was honest with himself, he also still blamed Steve for calling Richards and Strange.) So he and Steve stayed standing in Richards' workshop, waiting.

After a moment, Steve’s hesitant hand found Tony’s. Long seconds later, Tony entwined their fingers and held on tight.

Meanwhile, Richards avoided looking at Tony and Steve. Tony hated him.

The LED light above the multi-verse scanner’s door stayed firmly red.

The longer they stood waiting, the tenser Steve became. His face was hard and his jaw set in a firm line. Unlike Tony, who seemed unable to contain the energy in his body, shifting from restlessly from foot to foot.

Richards left at some point, to return a few moments later with what Tony guessed was tea or coffee and a tin of aperitifs. Steve accepted the courtesy with an absent smile, letting go of Tony’s hand with a small squeeze, and took a seat at the table. Ignoring the absurd sting of betrayal, Tony followed him and accepted a cup of coffee.

And the minutes ticked by. Richards stopped trying to make polite conversation and returned to his work, leaving Steve and Tony to avoid each other’s eyes.

 

After what seemed like ages, the light above Richards' multi-verse scanner turned green and, with a wisp of smoke, the chamber opened.

Natasha was the first one out – and not little Natasha, but the Black Widow, completely decked in form-fitting black.

For some reason, Tony couldn’t appreciate the sight as he used to. He focused on little things, like the red of her hair and the shyness of her smile.

Steve looked as if he had been struck by lightning. Tony liked to think he looked disappointed.

"Hey, Steve," said Natasha, as Clint and Bucky exited the multi-verse scanner, looking as gruff as when they were hit by the Aether, but clean and whole. Barnes was scowling.

 _Okay_.

Tony had expected soul-crushing grief, but he felt okay. (Not okay.) He was glad to see them.

 

_The Black Widow, Hawkeye and the Winter Soldier opened their eyes, expecting to see an army of Dark Elves or maybe their teammates, only to find a strange man wearing a cape and three children…._

_Three children who looked rather familiar._

_“What happens to the baby version of us if we choose to go back?” asked Hawkeye, after the man who called himself Doctor Strange explained._

_Doctor Strange hesitated. The Black Widow and the Winter Soldier glanced at their friend, returning their expectant stares to Doctor Strange afterward. “They would cease to exist.”_

_“Tony and Steve didn’t tell us that,” young Bucky pointed out suspiciously._

_“You didn’t ask,” said Strange. “Each pair of you must be in agreement. Otherwise, I cannot make the exchange.”_

_“I can be like her?” asked little Natasha._

_Black Widow kneeled in front of her little self and placed both hands on the girl’s shoulders. “I would spare you from many things,_ ptichka _. Are you happy?”_

_Little Natasha hesitated._

_Young Clint scoffed, drawling the words, “I am.”_

_“You’re what, six? And you already can’t hear?” asked Hawkeye flatly._

_Young Clint crossed his arms defiantly. “It doesn’t matter, Tony built me these, though they don’t work right now,” he gestured to his hearing aids, “and I want to stay. I like Steve. I won’t go back to_ them _and you can’t make me! And Natasha is happy! You can bet she is way better than she was at the orphanage. Tony says he’s gonna pay for her ballet lessons and Steve already helps her in the gym!”_

_Despite the challenge, Hawkeye looked pleased with his younger self._

_“What about you, Sergeant Barnes?” asked Doctor Strange._

_The Winter Soldier shrugged. “Whatever they decide. It’s just an arm.”_

_“Actually, Tony made me a pretty cool prosthetic,” said Young Barnes. “It looks just like yours, but I can take it off. I don’t know where it went—.”_

_The Black Widow interrupted him, “No. What you just said, about the arm? It’s important and it matters to you. No,” she insisted when the Winter Soldier started to interrupt. “What do you really want, James?”_

_“I was happy as a child, you know. I had Steve back then. And I know you two weren’t happy, or had Steve, but—you know where you were at that age, Nat. You could be happy this time around. You know they would make sure of it.”_

_“I don’t want to be a little girl anymore, I want to be big and strong,” said little Natasha. The Black Widow nodded at her words and the Winter Soldier ruffled the hair on both Natashas' heads._

_To the older version of the girl, he added, “You said you knew what it was like to be unmade, that you both did. What if you could know what it was like to be_ remade _?”_

 

Tony could do this. (He didn’t think he could.)

Steve opened his arms and Natasha stepped into his embrace. "I missed you, guys." He clasped a hand behind Bucky's neck when Bucky got close enough and pulled him in, bringing their foreheads together.

(Maybe that was why Tony had wanted the little ones more, he thought unkindly to himself. The adults didn't need him. Steve didn’t need him and would have no use for him now.)

From the corner of his eye, Tony caught sight of Clint standing next to him. "Barton.”

"Hey, man." Barton rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "Thanks for, you know—the hearing aids and shit. For taking us in, even when you didn't want to. Cap can be a bitch."

"I wanted to," he found himself saying. "From the start. I just didn't think I should."

Barton looked wrong-footed. "Oh, well. Thanks, anyway."

Tony had never realized he and Barton were more or less the same age.

"Jesus Christ, just give the man a hug, Barton!"

Tony and Barton looked to the side to see Natasha, who had spoken, Barnes, and Steve watching them with expressions that went from fond (Steve) to exasperated (Bucky). Sighing, Tony decided to be the grown up – he'd had practice, after all – and pulled Clint to a hug. "I know you're going to miss me as your buddy, but I think the little guy needs you more."

“Whatever you need, bud—,” Tony started to say, when Barton’s words registered.

What?

“What?”

It was Natasha who replied, "We are not staying, Tony. We just came to say goodbye."

Steve looked at Barnes, heartbroken. "Buck?"

"Stevie.” Barnes curled an arm around Steve shoulders, pulling him in again. “These two deserve better than the shitty deal they got as kids. I was thinking that I couldn't leave them by themselves, so. You take care of that kid, you hear me? He's the one you remember, he just forgot. And hey, you get old Bucky back! It’s win-win all around!"

“I like the Bucky I already got, Bucky! You don’t have to—.”

"Steve,” Natasha interrupted when Barnes and Steve started to tense. “What you have done for me since I met you," she told him with a smile, "how you've made me want to be better than I was…. Think of what you could do for that little girl. I want to give that to her. I want to give her what I didn’t have. It doesn’t matter if you like who I am or who James is now, James doesn’t. I don’t. And it’s _our_ choice."

"Natasha." Steve looked close to tears. Natasha hugged him, looking apologetic, but determined.

When she finally drew away from Steve, she came to stand in front of Tony. Barton pulled back. In the background, Tony could see Steve clinging to Barnes, whom he had lost twice already. Tony wasn't looking forward to watching the third time. He felt like an asshole at the happiness that was steadily filling him right now. Natasha put a hand on his shoulder to draw his eyes back to her. "We didn't always see eye-to-eye, but what you've done for that little girl, Tony—,” she shook her head, “—thank you." So saying, Natasha pulled Tony into a hug.

After a moment, Richards cleared his throat. "It’s time to go. Strange can't hold the bridge for much longer."

Natasha squeezed Tony one last time and Barton gave him one last hug. They headed for Steve, who was wiping away his tears as he let go of Barnes.

As Steve drew Natasha and Clint to him, Barnes held out a hand to Tony. "You take care of him, pal." He meant Steve. "And them." He pointed to Natasha and Barton, who had been trapped together by one of Steve's bear hugs. "I'll be watching."

Tony clasped Bucky’s hand tight. "I'll do my best."

Barnes smiled his charming old smile, carefree and young. He looked so much like the younger version of himself. Tony almost couldn't look at him. "That should do it," he said. It was only right for Tony to pull him into a one-armed hug. Barnes returned it immediately.

"Time," called Richards.

Resolutely, Natasha, Barnes, and Clint headed to the chamber again, disappearing inside after one last wave at Steve and Tony.

Tony resigned himself to the knowledge this had been the last time he’d see them. In truth, he was glad and felt like a jackass when Steve looked like his world would never be put to rights. For him, it was probably like 1945 all over again. Tony had said he wouldn’t be in a good place after the kids were gone, and Steve had been amazing like always, but what now that Steve was the one not in a good place? Tony should at least try, right? For Steve. Steve would want him to try. With that in mind, Tony went to stand next to Steve and allowed himself to take Steve’s hand this time. Steve’s let out a single sob. It broke Tony’s heart.

After countless minutes, the door opened again and just like before, Natasha was the first one out, all three feet of her. She squealed and ran for Steve, as fast as her short legs would carry her. Steve caught her in his arms and pulled her tight. He looked shell-shocked.

Next, Clint came out of the chamber. He looked shy; as if he was frightened Tony and Steve would rather have their older counterparts. It made Tony pick him up and pull him close.

Barnes looked resigned. As if he knew he wasn't the one they wanted, but willing to endure for his siblings. Steve kneeled, Natasha still clinging to him, and pulled the boy to a one-armed hug. He had always been glad for any version of Barnes he got, but that was Steve for you. When you had him in your corner, you’d always have him in your corner. Tony couldn’t help but to kneel and get one arm around Bucky and Steve as much as he could.

“Was there any trouble?” Tony heard Steve ask Strange. Tony let him handle it.

"It worked quite well, Captain. I made a bridge between two worlds and both adult and children version of our friends discussed the issue. It perhaps speaks in your favor that they all agree you would be good a parental choice."

Steve insisted, "You mean they all chose to remain as children? Even the little ones?"

"Yes."

" _What_?” Tony exclaimed, pulling back to look at the kids. “Are you guys _insane_? We must not have been living in the same place!" Laughing (crying), he added, “I’m so going to remind you guys of this during your teenage tantrums!”

 

 

**Six Months Later**

They were waiting in the one of Tony’s favorite parlors in Stark Mansion. It used to be where his mother entertained her female friends and, as a toddler, Tony would be a permanent fixture during their meetings. It had the benefit of being contiguous to the ballroom.

Steve knelt on the carpeted floor, replacing the hair pins on Natasha’s hair. At his side, Tony mourned the fact that Steve’s tuxedo was going to be wrinkled for all the wrong reasons (re: not because Tony’s mouth had been on his dick). Bucky, wearing his first three-piece suit and Converse sneakers, looked like he was fighting the mother of all boredom, while Clint—

“Bowties are cool, Steve! I want a purple one!”

—was so excited he looked about to start climbing walls. He darted around Tony, trying to peek into the gallery through the double doors.

Natasha, on another hand, had her chubby arms crossed over her small chest and was pouting something fierce. Tony was afraid she was going to hold a grudge over the cream-colored atrocity Pepper had chosen for her. It had a bow on the back. She looked lovely, obviously, but the dress was a far cry from the ballerina suit she had elected to wear today, before Tony and Steve had put an end to her delusions. (And after Pepper had put an end to theirs.)

“Okay,” Steve started, getting up and giving them all (including Tony) his trademark Captain America look. It made them all stop to listen in Pavlovian response. “Remember, you guys are only going to stay for a little while, just until we have some pictures together for the magazines. Then you’re off with Happy, understand?”

Cue in the pre-pubescent protests.

Pepper, sitting in one of his mother’s chaise-lounges, looked like she was trying not to laugh at them. Not at the kids, she _loved_ the kids, but she seemed to especially love how much they tried Tony’s patience. She called it karmic retribution. Case in point, there were no words for how much Tony regretted succumbing to Pepper’s niggling and agreeing to bring the kids to the Maria Stark Foundation Annual Gala. (It was their latest attempt at controlling what kind of information about the kids the media had access to.)  Alas, Tony had been weak.

“You can stop your whining,” Steve told Clint firmly. God, he was a walking cliché most of the time and Tony loved him to pieces. “When we tell you it’s time to leave, you go with Happy. Did I make myself clear? No tantrums, no whining, or else we are never going to bring you with us again, understand?” Sullenly, all three kids nodded. Pepper pressed her lips together, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Good. Behave and stay close to us, okay?” Again, they nodded. “Okay. _Okay_.” Steve looked about to expire from stress. He turned to Tony and Pepper. “Let’s do this.”

Tony held out a hand to Clint, while Steve picked up Natasha. He looked ridiculously hot, with a kid on his hip. It was stupid, because Tony was sure that was a biologic imperative talking and he usually had none of those. Exchanging a look, both Steve and Tony reached out to Bucky, who was placed between them.

Finally, Pepper stood up and came to stand next to them. “You look disgustingly sweet,” she said, retrieving her smartphone from her purse. Tony could see her send a couple of messages, probably to their security team, legal department and Happy.  “Okay, guys! Operation ‘TONY STARK, FAMILY MAN’ is a GO.”

**Author's Note:**

> There were quite a few inside jokes for the fandom, did you guys catch them? At this point in my life, I breathe pop culture~!
> 
> I imagine the ending is a bit controversial, but I was in need for a fic where the de-aged persons remained de-aged. I mean, I always conveniently get to gloss over the loss, so. What if there was no going back? Of course, maybe Natasha would never have chosen not to face her own issues or maybe she would. If she believed she would still be herself and trusted the people who were in charge...
> 
> I don’t want to jinx it *knock on wood* but hopefully the rest of the prompts will be fulfilled faster now, even though I have a couple of multi-chaptered fics planned for some of the prompts.


End file.
